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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25395340">Pause in the Pendulum</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitchello/pseuds/mitchello'>mitchello</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bruce Wayne is a Parent, Canon?, Dick Grayson was Renegade, Gen, Time Travel, We don't know her, continuity?, teenage dick grayson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 01:59:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,336</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25395340</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitchello/pseuds/mitchello</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>At the most inopportune time, Dick Grayson gets flung into the future. Even worse, he ends up at the Manor with Bruce and his new kids. Well, at least, they're new to Dick. </p>
<p>Or: During Dick's tenure as Renegade he suddenly finds himself years ahead of his own time and the longer he's there, the more secrets he realizes his future self kept from the family.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson &amp; Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson &amp; Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson &amp; Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson &amp; Jason Todd, Tim Drake &amp; Dick Grayson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>127</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>900</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For once, I'm finally not posting a genderbend</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dick Grayson was asleep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Or as close to asleep as you wanted to get in a forest with a mercenary-assassin.   </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>So, the sudden feeling of falling was unexpected. </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Dick twisted his body in the air and the moment his fingers touched the ground he flipped himself into a defensive position. </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>There were several things wrong Dick noted as the world finally settled around him: his feet were on hardwood instead of dirt, the air was crisp instead of humid, and there was a quiet hum of electricity around him. </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinked himself into a state of awareness and realized exactly how out of place he was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>He was in the Manor, the trees he could see through the windows were full with leaves, and the air conditioner was on. </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which was the freakiest part because Dick knew that while he was in the Southern Hemisphere where it was summer, Gotham was hit by a snowstorm just last week and was looking at record breaking low temperatures. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he’d simply been teleported to the Manor, he should be looking at snow covered grounds and listening to the crackle of a fire Alfred would have started in one of the fireplaces. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>These major discrepancies were not his only cause of concern. There were other changes around the Manor as well. New vases. New furniture. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though, Dick supposed, with him out of the Manor now, it made some sense for Alfred to redecorate: Dick wasn’t home to break priceless pieces of art any more, why not purchase that Ming? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick stopped trying to rationalize all the differences when a black-haired boy he’d never met before entered the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The boy appeared to be somewhere in his teens. Perhaps older than Dick. He was dressed casually in a red hoodie, black sweatpants that were too big for him, and socks covered with a corn on the cob pattern. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Dick made a mental note to buy corn socks for Clark.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bruce,” the boy called. His eyes never left Dick’s. The tone wasn’t urgent or scared, just neutral and maybe a bit curious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>A man walked into the room perfectly casual reading through some papers with an even smaller black-haired boy following behind him. </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Alfred shared Bruce’s baby albums with him over 3:00 A.M. ice cream after a bad patrol when Dick was eleven. Dick knew what baby Bruce looked like. And that kid looked a hell of a lot like baby Bruce. So much so that Dick almost changed his parallel universe theory to travelling back in time. He squashed that notion immediately because the first boy had called for Bruce not Thomas Wayne. And he was holding a smart phone in his hand. </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Parallel universe or the future. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>“Bruce!” The boy called again, this time with a sharper tone. </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>The man looked up from his papers and immediately noticed Dick. </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Dick didn’t flinch at the gaze, but he did notice how the man had tensed. Not in one of the ways Dick particularly liked to see when Bruce tensed. This was one of the tenses that meant Bruce was ready to spring into a fight. The kid had done it too. </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>This man was older than Dick’s Bruce. He had more lines around his eyes and a few more grey hairs. </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span> “Dick?” The man asked. His voice was purposefully cautious. </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Dick was used to a constantly neutral sounding Bruce. Or angry. Dick thought if there was an Olympics for fighting, he and Bruce would take gold in stride. The only times Dick remembered Bruce saying his name like that were both pretty early on in the vigilante life and were either because Dick had gotten himself hurt or Dick had been upset and Bruce hadn’t know how to deal with it. </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><span>Bruce had got better at dealing with upset Dick, but he’d never figured out how to deal with injured Dick. </span>Hence why they hadn’t seen each other in months. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>“Hey-a B.” Dick didn’t mention that he thought he was in a parallel universe because if it were true he wasn’t sure if this Bruce Wayne was Batman. At least Bruce knew who he was. He made sure he sounded casual yet inconvenienced. He wanted Bruce to know how little he wanted to be there.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>The two boys stared at him then they passed a few subtle glances at each other that reminded Dick of Cy and Beast Boy when they were trying to cheat at cards.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Bruce was obviously going through the same thought process Dick was. Not sure if Dick should be there or not. Not sure if whatever he said could fuck things up. Thankfully, the first boy spoke up. </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>“How about we go downstairs and figure out what’s going on.” </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Dick understood that to mean: let’s go to the cave and run some tests on this kid who appeared in our house and looks like somebody we know. Which meant Batman was a thing here. Which also meant Dick wanted to leave as soon as he could. He and Batman got along even worse than he and Bruce. </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though, Dick couldn’t be certain it was like that in all realities, he didn’t want to take any chances.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>“It’d probably be better if we didn’t.” Dick kept his face and tone neutral like he was reciting a fact. He was. “I have other people I can call,” he added as a jab at Bruce, a reminder that he and Dick no longer worked together, that Bruce had kicked him out and he had formed his own group of allies. </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then again, if he was in an alternate reality, then it was entirely possible that his words to Bruce were uncalled for. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Still, Dick would rather not work with Bruce. </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>The two boys looked at him with confusion. Maybe a bit of hurt. These kids were likely close with a version of him. </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>The first kid started texting on his phone. It pinged almost immediately. “Dick says he’s fine. He’s in Bludhaven at his apartment. So, I guess we can cross off de-aging.”  </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Bruce hummed in response. </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Dick hadn’t considered de-aging mostly because he’d felt himself slip through whatever realities that had landed him here. He debated between alternate reality and time travel again. </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><span>Dick hoped it was alternate reality. </span>He didn’t want to deal with the dangers of time travel. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>He weighed the probabilities of Bruce letting him leave without confirming whether or not he was evil. Or a clone. Or a shapeshifter sent to destroy them. </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yeah, the likelihood was low. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could run for it and head straight for Metropolis and find Clark. Sure, it would cement in Bruce’s head that he was a threat, but at least he wouldn’t be with Bruce. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>There also wasn’t a guarantee that Clark would even know him or want to help him. </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>There were an infinite number of possibilities that could be different. Trying to plan for all of them would be pointless. He didn’t trust this old version of Bruce but he didn’t see any other options. </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Dick took a page out of Bruce’s book and turned on the skepticism and paranoia. He made sure it was written all over his face. “Why would you help me?”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>“You don’t belong here,” Bruce replied, ever so succinct. </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Dick snorted. He’d heard several similar versions of that before. Under different circumstances but still. It wasn’t exactly a motivation that earned Bruce any more trust. Dick decided to just roll with it at this point. If it came down to a fight… well, they were past due for one. </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><span>It helped that Dick hadn’t actually seen Bruce in months. Maybe even a year. </span>Now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure it was closer to a year. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>“Let’s just get this over with.”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>He followed Bruce to the cave entrance. The elder boy walked next to B. The smaller one trailed behind Dick like he was still expecting him to turn hostile. </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>A million reasons for the kids ran through Dick’s brain. He didn’t let himself think too hard on any of them. </span>
  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Time travel.” The older boy told Bruce. His brows furrowed just enough to let Dick know he was surprised. </p>
<p>“You are sure this is not some alternate version of Grayson?” The kid asked. </p>
<p>“I double checked.”</p>
<p>Dick had watched him, too, to make sure everything was done properly.</p>
<p>His lack of trust had unsettled the boys, but that was a problem for future him. He was more concerned about getting back into his sleeping bag without any evidence he’d ever been gone. Making an assassin-mercenary think he was being double crossed was at the top of Dick’s DON’T DO list. “You have something to send me back?”</p>
<p>“No.” Bruce said. </p>
<p>“Know anybody who can?”</p>
<p>“Possibly.” </p>
<p>Dick checked his desire to punch Bruce. It was getting pretty high. </p>
<p>The future sucked. </p>
<p>Dick pressed his back into the metal railing of the cave. </p>
<p>“What were the circumstances leading up to your appearance here?” Bruce’s tone was annoyingly flat and demanding. </p>
<p>“I was asleep,” Dick said, leaving out all the important details. “Woke up feeling like I was falling and suddenly I was in the Manor.” Dick let his gaze fall back onto the wall of cases filled with various suits. They were probably the biggest change to the Batcave he’d seen so far.</p>
<p>“You weren’t at the Manor before.” There was a twitch in the tips of Bruce’s fingers and he could tell the man was starting to pinpoint the time Dick was from.</p>
<p>Dick did nothing to confirm the statement. Instead, he dragged his gaze from the cases to the two boys. The younger stood next to Bruce while the elder sat next to the computer that had the test results on it. Both looked a bit uncomfortable, likely from the tension between him and Bruce. That didn’t stop him from continuing to ignore Bruce’s silent ask about his whereabouts.</p>
<p>He let his gaze wonder around the cave and took a more detailed stock of everything that’d changed than he had upon his initial descent.</p>
<p>At the same time, he could feel Bruce observing him once again, taking in his appearance. Dick was wearing black sweatpants and a black, long sleeved athletic shirt. He silently thanked the universe he’d slept in actual clothes.</p>
<p>“Providing us with more information will drastically help you return to your own time,” the elder boy cut the silence.</p>
<p>Dick eyed the computer. It didn’t appear that the systems had changed much over the years and if future-Dick was on good terms with the mini-bats, Dick was sure all the reports from his time would be uploaded into the Bat’s system.</p>
<p>He straightened himself and gestured for the kid to move. He stepped beside him and leaned over the computer, clicking away. Sure enough, the system updates were easy to figure out and move through. He found a file labeled with the date he’d started his mission as Renegade and what he assumed was also the end date. He clicked it, surprised at the lack of a password needed, and opened the only document under it. The screen was unexpectedly bare.</p>
<p>Dick had expected pages upon pages of detailed reports.</p>
<p>This was not that.</p>
<p>The first line stated his entry into a mission for the Titan’s followed by the date, then there was half a page of numbers, and the page was concluded by <em>Mission Completed</em> next to another date.</p>
<p>Dick let out an exhale of a laugh.</p>
<p>The youngest boy slid up between Dick and the chair the other boy was in. “What does it say?”</p>
<p>Bruce took a large step so he was directly behind them. Dick caught the tick in Bruce’s jaw when he took in the document. He also noticed how the man didn’t offer any information on what the mission was.</p>
<p>Huh.</p>
<p>Bruce didn’t know.</p>
<p>“Nothing,” Dick answered with humor in his voice.</p>
<p>“<em>What?</em>” the boy in the chair asked, incredulously. He spun the chair so he could make direct eye contact with Dick.</p>
<p>“It doesn’t say anything,” he replied. “Future me didn’t write up a real report. The numbers are gibberish.” A lie because, after much hardship, the code could be translated to ‘Titan’s business, fuck you’.</p>
<p>Bruce made a disapproving sound that let Dick know his falsehood was caught and Dick gave a light hum in response.</p>
<p>“Why wouldn’t you fill out your report?” the small boy asked, his face scrunched in confusion, as if Dick purposefully not divulging information to Bruce was new.</p>
<p>Dick ignored the question and brought his eyes to meet Bruce’s. “Did you ever get the information about this mission?”</p>
<p>Bruce’s silence was answer enough.</p>
<p>Dick mentally sorted through his options. He could tell them the date and location he needed to get back to and risk Bruce finding out about the mission he was on or he could attempt to leave the Manor, find a Titan and see if they could help him out. Then again, he wouldn’t really have to face the consequences if Bruce did find out. Not immediately. Future him would be the one left to clean up his mess. Bruce wouldn’t be able to try to convince him to leave his spot as Renegade. Changing the time stream and all that jazz. And it wasn’t like he and the Terminator left evidence behind for Bruce to be able to connect anything.</p>
<p>He leaned back down to the computer and pulled up a new screen. The world map appeared and he typed in the coordinates he’d been at before he’d tumbled into the Manor. A marker popped up over the location he needed to be returned to along with a text box where he entered the date and what he hoped was the exact time he’d disappeared from.</p>
<p>“Looks like you’re seven years in the future,” the kid in the chair informed. He focused on the marker on the screen. “What are you doing in San Monté? I’ve never heard of the Titan’s dealing with any disturbances there.”</p>
<p>“Guess we don’t get a lot of news coverage, huh?” Dick easily deflected. “Now about getting me back, do we have a plan?”</p>
<p>The elder boy and Bruce exchange a look.</p>
<p>“I’ll call Zatanna,” the boy said. Bruce gives him what can barely be described as a nod to signal his approval.</p>
<p>By call, Dick realized, the boy meant send a message through the computer.</p>
<p>He pushed a set of vials up against the cave wall and pulled himself up onto the now empty part of the metal desk the computer was on. He sat slightly higher, Bruce was still taller than him, but he felt more grounded. “I don’t believe I’ve gotten introductions.” Dick kept his tone neutral, but the fact that Bruce kept collecting black-haired boys after him and Jason mildly astounded him. “I’m Dick,” he said even though they already knew.</p>
<p>“Tim,” the elder boy said, his focus still on the message he was writing to Zatanna.</p>
<p>“Damian.”</p>
<p>Tim hit send on his message.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>discussion of canonical character death</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dick shimmied his way further back on the desk until his spine hit the cold wall of the cave. “How long do you think it’ll take for her reply?” He didn’t ask anyone in particular, mind moving too fast to give his attention to a single person.</p><p>In his periphery, Tim shrugged. “Anywhere between a couple of minutes or a couple of days.”</p><p>“Okay,” Dick replied, nonchalant, with his own shrug of his shoulders, even though Dick was feeling very chalant. He could do maybe a few hours in the cave, anything after that and he knew he’d be out the door. Unless he stayed away from Bruce. Then there’d be a possibility of him managing to survive in the Manor for a day or two. He let out a long, purposeful breath.</p><p>“What?” Damian asked, a bit sharply.</p><p>“Just wondering if we’re gonna sit here until she replies or what.” A total lie. He was just trying to keep him self from snapping at Bruce. Or maybe he was letting Bruce know he wanted to snap at him.   </p><p>Tim and Damian exchanged a look and Bruce reached into his own pocket and pulled out a smart phone. The older man typed out a message and the buzz of a reply came almost instantly. Bruce let out the same long sigh Dick had and the two boys turned full-bodied attention to him. Dick didn’t. He looked past the man and focused on one of the bats in flight.</p><p>“Our Dick says he also doesn’t have anything to help,” Bruce informed, his voice detached in the way Dick was used to. “He said he didn’t keep his memories from the time displacement.”</p><p>“What else?” Dick asked, because despite the copious number of times he reminded Bruce he wasn’t a mind reader, he always knew when Bruce was leaving something out.</p><p>“He said it gets taken care of on your side of time.”</p><p>Dick’s mind started to whirl. Who in San Monté could mess around with time? Who could throw him into the future and how had they even found him? Their team was six people small, the mission was more covert than Dick ever knew was possible (and that’s saying something because he was trained by <em>Batman</em>), and nothing had even <em>happened</em> yet. Nobody was dead, no dams were destroyed, and the country wasn’t upturned into political unrest. Though, Dick supposed, somebody might have found out about their contract and hired a counter.</p><p>Wait, if the people on his side of the timeline were the ones that got him back, that meant Slade was going to know he’d been somewhere else and that asshole was going to want to know where, when. Even if his older self said he wouldn’t remember being here, the likelihood of Slade believing he had <em>magical amnesia</em> was low. Super fucking low. Suddenly, staying stuck at the Manor forever seemed like the better deal.</p><p>“No point in waiting around for Zatanna then,” Dick said, sliding off the desk. Thankfully, nobody followed him.</p><p>He walked mindlessly around the cave, his fingers skimming over rails and rocks. He paused at the row of Batmobiles. The one he remembered being in last with Bruce was missing. He didn’t bother to check out the new ones.</p><p>Eventually, he found himself at the wall of cases. He only stopped when he reached a familiar costume. Blue, black, and gold. It was an obvious imitation of one of his father’s show outfits. Exaggerated at some points. The ‘V’ was deeper than how his father had worn it, clearly Dick’s own influence on the design. It looked big, bigger than Dick thought he’d ever get. He wondered when he’d get the growth spurt that let him fit that suit. He wondered if he wore it as well as his father had. The suit became more intimidating after that, like he was still a child trying on their parents’ clothes. How long would it be in his own timeline until he designed that very suit? It should be soon considering both he and Jason were currently masquerading around in Robin costumes. Not that they appeared together, but it was getting kind of noticeable that the Robin of the Titans and the Robin in Gotham were no longer the same.</p><p><em>Jason</em>.</p><p>Dick let his gaze pass over the Robin case again. He’d noticed it, of course, the gold plaque that read A GOOD SOLDIER. A memorial. How Bruce.</p><p>He felt Tim approach more than he heard him. He still forced a surprised look when the other boy entered the side of his vision.</p><p>Tim scrunched his nose. “Don’t do that.”</p><p>“Do what?” Dick looked at the boy in the reflection of the glass case.</p><p>Tim made a vague gesture at Dick’s body. “Pretend. Act like neither of us were raised by Batman.”</p><p>Dick just shrugged.</p><p>“You know,” Tim said as he took a step closer to Dick so they were almost shoulder to shoulder, “this isn’t the case I thought you’d be preoccupied with. People usually get surprised by Jason’s.”</p><p>He lets out a bitter laugh. He really couldn’t help it.</p><p>Tim draws away from him. Not much, but enough to let Dick know he was taken aback.</p><p>“Sorry,” Dick said because it felt appropriate. Really though, Dick couldn’t see what was so surprising about the child hero dying. That’d been the whole reason he wasn’t in Gotham anymore—almost dying.</p><p>Tim’s eyebrows drew together. “You don’t seem…” he trailed off, eyes studying Dick eerily similar to Bruce.</p><p>“I mean, to me, it was inevitable.” Dick looked over at Tim, he looked a little offended. He slid his gaze back to the cases, this time staying on Jason’s. “Not because I think he’s a bad Robin or anything.” He might, he hadn’t really thought about it. “But I’m not Robin with Bruce anymore because he thought if I stayed with him, I’d die. I don’t see why Jason would be any different.”</p><p>It was silent for a moment, Dick and Tim both staring at the cases.</p><p>“He came back,” Tim said, focused on the Robin costume. “To life, I mean. He was only dead for a bit. Then he did some time with Talia.”</p><p>“Al Guhl?” Dick asked, as if there was any other.</p><p>“Yep, she taught him a lot.”</p><p>Dick felt himself mutter something about murderous mentors.</p><p>“What?” Tim shot him a look.</p><p>“Nothing. So, he’s alive now.”</p><p>“Yeah, he goes by Red Hood now. He and Bruce are… They don’t get along, really.”</p><p>“Huh.” That was all Dick could figure to say to that.</p><p>Dick turned so he was looking at Tim and the other boy did the same. Tim was all evaluating.</p><p>“What are you really doing in San Monté?”</p><p>Dick had to give it to the kid, he was smart.</p><p>Dick raised a brow and cracked a grin, a teasing expression. “Starting a coup,” he said, humorously.</p><p>Tim snorted. “Sure.” He checked his phone. “C’mon, Alfred’s home with the groceries.”</p><p>Dick felt a spark of excitement. He hadn’t seen Alfred in ages. They wrote occasionally, but that was it. He reminded himself that this wasn’t his Alfred and when he got back to his own time, he needed to call the elder man more often.</p><p>Tim started walking towards the stairs up to the Manor and Dick found himself following closely behind.   </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yay, I finally had time to write out this chapter!! I'm so excited about this story and I hope my schedule clears up more so I can update faster. It's my senior year of college and I have a lot to do this semester with classes and trying to get into grad school. Please be patient with me on updates &lt;3. All the comments over the last chapters brought me so much joy!! I thrive off of them, honestly. Thank you for reading!! I love you all.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dick froze at the edge of the kitchen, toes barely passing where the hardwood turned into tile. Tim walked past him without hesitation, grabbed bags off the counter, and disappeared into the pantry. Dick just stared at Bruce’s back as the man kneeled in front of the refrigerator while performing the grocery version of Tetris.</p>
<p>Dick tried to remember the last time Bruce helped him and Alfred unload the groceries. His mind was turning up blank. It had definitely been a regular thing up until middle school ended, but after that, well, Bruce couldn’t be bothered to get out of the Cave. Then, it’d been just him and Alfred every Thursday. It’d practically become their scheduled bonding time. Somehow, in the future, Bruce picked up some kids and started participating in what looked a hell of a lot like a family activity.</p>
<p>Damian and Alfred stood at the island counter pulling various items out of reusable cloth bags.</p>
<p>“I was unaware we were such a spectacle, Master Dick,” Alfred said without glancing over.</p>
<p>Dick stayed glued to the entryway. “Too many cooks in the kitchen.” He forced a bit of laughter into his voice.  </p>
<p>Alfred turned, clearly ready to scold Dick, but paused, wide-eyed, at the sight in front of him. The older man took only a moment to find new words. “And how was your visit to the Fountain of Youth?”</p>
<p>At Alfred’s question, Bruce became intensely focused on placing the fruits in the bottom refrigerator drawer and Damian found himself extremely interested in reading the label of the can he was holding. Dick looked around for Tim only to see the back of a red hoodie disappearing further into the pantry. He took an second to wonder how <em>nobody had told Alfred</em> about the situation.</p>
<p>“Unexpected,” he replied. “I brought a bottle of the water back for you, Alf, but they lost it in customs.”</p>
<p>“Are you implying that I haven’t maintained my youthful glow, Master Dick? I do recall <em>you</em> insisting I’ve never aged a day.”</p>
<p>Seven years in the future and Dick would still claim it was mostly true. The only signs of the passed time were a few new age spots and thinner hair. “You still don’t look a day over one hundred and two.”</p>
<p>Alfred gave him a flat look and Dick felt his lips twitch up in a smile.</p>
<p>“You flatter me,” the older man said dryly. “Now come put these in the freezer.”</p>
<p>They worked silently after that. Dick almost got his hand slapped once when he started emptying a bag. He was lifting out a can of cat food one moment and Damian was moving to swat at him the next. He dropped the can back in the bag and withdrew before the kid could make contact.</p>
<p>Since when did they have a cat?</p>
<p>Once everything was put away, Dick stood awkwardly next to Alfred while the other three exchanged glances. He really wished they’d just leave so he and Alfred could chat alone.</p>
<p>Damian broke away from the Bruce and Tim and stalked directly in front of Dick. He tilted his head up and gave Dick a purposefully obvious once over. “Your style must be different at this age, you’re much less muscular.” Curiosity dusted across the boy’s face. “We should spar.”</p>
<p>“Um. Right.” Dick gave a short nod. “Later.” He was doing his best not to bounce on his feet impatiently. The kid seemed to accept his answer because he backed away and picked up the cloth bag that had the pet food in it.</p>
<p>“Dick.” Bruce wore his patented we-need-to-talk look.</p>
<p>Yeah, no. Dick was not dealing with that. He was not in the space to have a conversation with Bruce at all. Especially not in front of a couple of kids he didn’t know. “Bruce,” he said, and he didn’t even try to mask the way his face screwed up sourly.</p>
<p>“Your reports—”</p>
<p>“Do you mind?” He asked sharply with a pointed look at the archway out of the kitchen.</p>
<p>Bruce’s jaw ticked.</p>
<p>Tim looked between them uncomfortably and shifted his weight on his legs. Damian froze at a drawer where he was pulling out a can opener.</p>
<p>Dick hardened his expression into one that let Bruce know to give him some fucking space.</p>
<p>Frown lines deepened at the corners of Bruce’s lips and his eyes shone with some sort of resigned hurt that made Dick want to shatter glass. Bruce left the room surprisingly smoothly with the tiniest movement in his fingers that had Tim and Damian following right after him.</p>
<p>Finally alone with Alfred, Dick let his posture fall. He wanted comfort. In the back of his head he knew he wasn’t going to remember any of the following interactions, he knew that whatever consolation or wisdom Alfred could pass on to him would be gone the moment he landed back in San Monté, but he still wanted to feel loved even if it was ephemeral. He let his breath out shakingly.</p>
<p>“Take a seat, Master Dick,” Alfred suggested in a light tone.</p>
<p>He reached his arms back and lifted himself onto the island countertop. He heard Alfred gave a small sigh and he realized the older man might have wanted him to sit on one of the stools on the opposite side of the counter. He stayed in place anyway. He’d never been one for sitting properly and maybe older him picked up the habit but Dick certainly wasn’t going to start early.</p>
<p>“Alf,” he started, but he couldn’t manage to find the words after that. There were too many things he wanted to talk to the man about. He wanted to apologize for the distance he’d put between them, he wanted to tell him he missed him, he wanted to know every little thing that’d changed over the years, and—god—there was so much he hadn’t told Alfred in his letters and he didn’t even know if older him ever shared about Paris or Molinia or Laos. He swallowed hard.</p>
<p>Alfred gave a short, understanding nod at Dick’s silence. He didn’t prod or try to encourage Dick into talking. He simply went about the kitchen and started prepping a kettle for tea.</p>
<p>Dick felt some of the tension leave his shoulders at how little Alfred had changed. The familiarity didn’t dampen the thrum in Dick’s body demanding he left the Manor. The marble underneath his fingertips and the muffled fragrance of cedar were like visiting a bad memory.</p>
<p>The walls of this place were always too thick to break free from.</p>
<p>Dick reached his arms towards the ceiling until he could feel the muscles in his back stinging.</p>
<p>“So, Master Dick, when are we?” Alfred asked as he began to seep the tea. Dick hadn’t even noticed the water being moved over to the tea pot.</p>
<p>Dick shrugged slightly. “Seventeen in three months.”</p>
<p>Alfred turned away from the tea in order to meet Dick’s eyes. “I see. You haven’t been home for…” Dick jerked at the word and Alfred graciously trailed off. “Well, you’re long overdue for a cup of tea, Master Dick.”</p>
<p>“Of course.”</p>
<p>A moment later a porcelain teacup and saucer was placed into his hands. He was almost surprised at being handed the good china.</p>
<p>Alfred was kind enough to start idle conversation. He described the changes around Gotham, listed his top ten favorite almost world ending events that had occurred in his past seven years, and explained Bruce’s new kids without Dick even having to ask. He even dropped a few stories on the other Titans in a subtle reassurance they were alive. Dick participated lightly on the speaking side of things. He asked questions in appropriate pauses but otherwise let Alfred spin him tales in a voice usually reserved for on stage. Dick kept up with the intensity of the stories, widening his eyes during descriptions of narrow escapes and biting his lip when Alfred would build up the anticipation. Eventually, the conversation dwindled and the tea disappeared from their cups.</p>
<p>“I’m not going to see you for a while, am I?” Dick swirled the dregs of his tea. He knew what Alfred being so animated meant. “After I get back, I don’t visit soon.”</p>
<p>The older man stepped away from where he’d been leaning on the counter opposite of Dick. “I’m afraid so.” His smile fell into one a bit grieved.</p>
<p>“I missed you, Alfred, and I’ll miss you again when I forget I’ve just seen you.”</p>
<p>Alfred’s lips pulled down. “I’m not sure that I told you that. The next time you see me, I can’t recall if I told you, but I missed you too.”</p>
<p>Dick slid off the counter and leaned across the space to pick up Alfred’s empty cup. He carries it alongside his own to the sink.</p>
<p>“You’re not staying,” Alfred said behind him. The <em>at the Manor while you’re suck in our time</em> was implied. Dick was almost glad his back was turned.</p>
<p>He didn’t answer right away. He let the silence linger and his hands turn red under scolding water as he washed the porcelain. “I can’t,” he managed to say when the soap bubbles were rinsed down the drain. His skin practically tingled with how much he wanted to get out of the Manor.</p>
<p>“You’ll help me prepare dinner.”</p>
<p>And if that was the price for running away, then Dick was willing to take it easily.</p>
<p>Dick ended up talking more through the meal prep, spurred through guilt of leaving Alfred after being away for so long. Though, it wasn’t like this Alfred hadn’t seen him recently, the older version of him. It took him a while to figure out what he could even talk about. He didn’t exactly have any recent stories that didn’t include Deathstroke, political subterfuge, or B-grade mercenary work. He tried to focus on sights he’d visited (more like caught-a-glimpse-of-while-getting-paid-to-do-illegal-shit, but he wouldn’t tell Alfred that).</p>
<p>Dick was cutting cucumbers for a salad while Alfred handled pasta on the stove when Bruce walked back into the room. Dick stood next to the sink, pretending to be wholeheartedly focused on his knife sills and Alfred sent the other man a look that read <em>tread carefully</em>.</p>
<p>“Smells good.” Bruce stood awkwardly at the far side of the island.</p>
<p>It was true, the sauce was going to be divine. Alfred gave a little hum of thanks. Dick sliced with a loud noise when it hit the board. He noticed Bruce’s fist clench once out of the corner of his eye. Nervous. Not a mood of Bruce’s Dick particularly wanted to see. He slid the chopped cucumbers in with the rest of the salad and turned to Bruce who looked… guilty.</p>
<p>“Dick,” Bruce paused and studied him to see if he was going to object to whatever talk was about to take place. Fuck, Dick didn’t even know if he was going to object. “I realize that you’re currently at an age when you and I are not… we’re not at a healthy point with each other—”</p>
<p>“Were we ever?” Dick snorted rhetorically, Wally’s voice in the back of his mind reminding him that people who care for each other don’t aim to hurt each other. Though, the way Bruce visibly flinched made him a hypocrite on that part.</p>
<p>“I’ve… I don’t know what’s happening in your life right now with the Titans. And I understand why that’s the case.” He took a step closer. “Dick, I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life… I’m sorry—” he reached out a hand towards Dick’s shoulder.</p>
<p>One moment, Dick was holding a knife, the next he was holding a cutting board and Bruce was bumping into it with his fingertips. Bruce fell silent and withdrew his outstretched arm.</p>
<p>“I can’t do this with you, Bruce.” He really couldn’t. He had so much pent up anger for <em>his </em>Bruce and the longer this Bruce was talking, the more hurt he could feel boiling to his skin. Dick needed to resolve things with <em>his </em>Bruce. He needed to be able to yell and shout and throw things because Bruce had kicked him out, because Bruce had given away Robin. For so many reasons, really. But this Bruce had already done all of that. Dick hadn’t.</p>
<p>Bruce started speaking again and Dick slammed the cutting board onto the counter then sent a mental apology to Alfred. “Bruce,” he cut the man off, “I’m not ready to try to reconcile with you right now, so, unless you want to fight, just get out of the kitchen. I cannot be in the same room as you.”</p>
<p>Bruce sent Alfred a look for help. Alfred just raised his brow in the way that said <em>you started this one, Master Bruce</em>.</p>
<p>Bruce stayed planted in the kitchen. Dick mixed his salad, placed it next to Alfred, and walked out of the room.</p>
<p>Dick already had half of a plan drawn up in the back of his mind for how he was going to exit the Manor. It included going down to the Batcave and stealing a motorcycle. The closer he got to the grandfather clock, the clearer a different idea became. That’s how he ended up in Bruce’s garage. <em>Bruce Wayne’s</em> garage. Dick already had a steady list of Bruce’s cars that he’d stolen. This time, he wanted one that was discrete but would also piss Bruce off. The Porsche. Dick scanned around the room for the dark blue car (her name was Rebecca, Bruce told him once). He snagged the keys from the rack, opened the garage door, then walked over to the car. God, it was even more beautiful than he remembered. He slid into the driver’s seat and readjusted the seat and mirrors. She started up and Dick felt a wide smile pull at his lips.</p>
<p>He paused for a moment outside the garage to squeal the tires because he knew it would double Bruce’s anger, then pealed down the driveway. He rolled down his windows and let the air tousle his hair.</p>
<p>Maybe the day would turn out good after all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>What? I updated? It's been too long. Classes have been absolutely murdering me the last couple of weeks. <br/>Also, y'all are the best.💗</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>What? It didn't take 30 years for me to update?? A miracle!! </p>
<p>also just so y'all know, Dick def let's himself get purposefully hurt in here, so like, self harm?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Everything in Dick’s body told him he was driving into an illusion as he crossed over the bridge into Gotham proper. The skyscrapers were a bit too shiny, the smog too thin, and the air wasn’t carrying the river’s typical putrid scent.</p>
<p>He pushed his mind away from the changes and cranked on the radio.  </p>
<p>The thrum of the bass and the wind across his cheeks put Dick mostly at ease. He was out of the Manor, away from Bruce, but he still needed something else. He needed to get rid of all the excess energy his temper had so kindly provided him.</p>
<p>He parked in the financial district right outside of Gemini Savings then made a silent, brief prayer that Harvey was planning a robbery soon and the car would see some damage.</p>
<p>He left the keys in the car, unworried, and took a moment to admire the old Gotham architecture while leaning against the Porsche’s sleek body. It’d been a while since the gargoyles and steel had glared down upon him. He moved across the sidewalk so his back was against the pillar at the bottom of the bank steps’ railing. He subtly observed the passersby’s, waiting for one with a particular look to them. It took a few minutes for exactly what he was looking for to appear.</p>
<p>Two men, dressed finely enough that they could be mistaken as wealthy, strolled in his direction. One man lifted his arm to look at his watch, it would have been an impressive accessory if it weren’t fake. The other man’s nose was crooked from a poorly healed break, and both of them had dirt under their nails, slightly greasy hair, and a roughness to their countenance. The costly signaling attempting to mask their true status only meant one thing: henchmen.</p>
<p>He waited for the perfect moment then stepped into the middle of the sidewalk, turned his head to look behind him while still walking forward, and should checked the man with the crooked nose. Dick stopped walking and directed his focus onto the man, making sure to crinkle his expression just enough to give the impression he thought he’d just ran into the human equivalent of trash. He added in a grossed-out sound from the back of his throat for good measure and continued to walk past the two men.</p>
<p>Crooked-Nose-Man grabbed his arm before he even made it two steps.</p>
<p>“Hey, kid, I think you’re forgettin’ somethin’.”</p>
<p>Dick twisted. Fake-Watch-Man was observing them with an almost hopeful gleam in his eyes. Crooked-Nose-Man was lording himself like Dick had just performed the ultimate faux pas.</p>
<p>Dick let the Gotham accent come to him easily. “Yeah? Like what?”</p>
<p>“You’re manners.”</p>
<p>Dick scoffed and jutted his chin. “My manners? Maybe <em>you</em> should watch where you’re goin’.” He ripped his arm out of the man’s hold.</p>
<p>Fake-Watch-Man stepped into his space and curled his lips. “You’re gonna apologize to my friend here, short stuff. Unless you want me to beat some manners into you.”</p>
<p>The man’s breath vaguely reminded Dick of the river stench.</p>
<p>Nose-Job spoke up from beside them, “It’s our civic duty to teach ya how to be polite. So, you want to say sorry now or after you lose a few teeth?”</p>
<p>“Fuck off,” Dick spat at them. He turned on his heel and started marching down the street. It seemed, for a moment, that they were going to let him go, but it turned out they were just waiting for him to reach the mouth of an alley.</p>
<p>Dick wasn’t sure which one pushed him into the dark space between the two high brick buildings, but he did know which one was about to punch him.</p>
<p>He let Watch-Man land the hit and retaliated with a wild punch of his own, not caring about how telegraphed it was. Nose-Job sent him stumbling back with a kick to his sternum just as his knuckles brushed Watch-Man’s cheek. He grabbed a metal trashcan lid from the ground next to him and hurled it at the two henchmen. It hit Nose-Job in the shoulder. Watch-Man closed the distance between them and threw another punch, which Dick blocked this time. He twisted and elbowed the man in the side. Nose-Job sent a fist into his lower back and soon Dick was exchanging a series of blows with the two men not even bothering to dodge.</p>
<p>The fight was sloppy at best, easily compared to three high school football players coming to blows in a hallway. It felt good, though, the rush of adrenaline and the stinging of his skin.</p>
<p>He let the fight end when Watch-Man grabbed a handful of his shirt and slammed him into one of the brick walls.</p>
<p>“You remember those words yet, short stuff?”</p>
<p>Dick pushed back the urge to headbutt the man. He focused on Nose-Job. “My bad.” He bit out, somehow managing not to make it sound sarcastic.</p>
<p>“Good enough for me.”</p>
<p>And, of course, Gotham henchmen didn’t leave a man standing, so Watch-Man tugged Dick forward by his shirt then slammed an elbow on the back of Dick’s neck. Gravity took care of the rest and Dick was on the asphalt in seconds. A boot swung into his stomach and, fuck, Watch-Man carried through with his kicks.</p>
<p>“Mind your manners next time.”</p>
<p>Dick closed his eyes and made a slightly exaggerated groan. He heard their shoes grind into the ground away from him, messaging their exit. He stayed still on the ground for a few minutes.</p>
<p>God, if Slade had ever seen him fight like that, well, he couldn’t even begin to imagine the disappointment. He cracked a smile at the thought then felt blood trickle down from his lip.</p>
<p>He sat up and pressed his back into the wall, taking a quick mental catalog of his injuries. Nothing was broken, his stomach was probably going to have a bruise from hell, his jaw was aching and definitely going to swell, but hey, two birds with one stone. He got his energy out and his face wouldn’t be recognizably Dick Grayson.  </p>
<p>He zoned out for a while, sitting in Gotham’s grime with blood on his face and bruises developing on his skin. It got hot eventually, uncomfortably hot. The sun beating down on the city’s pavement all day heightened the heat and Dick’s sweatpants and long sleeved shirt weren’t helping. He was starting to hate that he’d dropped into summertime: the days were too long. Sitting around until the sun finally set sounded like hell.</p>
<p>Good thing he knew a place.</p>
<p>He stood up, brushed himself off, and walked out of the alley feeling more comfortable than he probably should.</p>
<p>Thankfully, in the future it held true that Gothamites didn’t look twice at beat up teenagers.</p>
<p>He headed east, occasionally noting new buildings, new signs on old buildings, and spaces where he knew a building should be. After a bit of walking, rolling his sleeves and pant legs up, and sweating more than he’d like to admit, Dick found himself below a segment of the elevated rail system. The station had changed locations so Dick ended up following the line south until he found the tracks were enveloped by a building that had GOTHAM RAIL in gold letters across the glass exterior.</p>
<p>Naturally, Dick scaled a wall of the building instead of going inside. He hauled himself from one steel glass frame to the next, moving horizontally once he was high enough. He stopped above the H train track and hoped the route hadn’t changed in the past seven years.</p>
<p>He looked at the sun for the time. Almost 7:00 P.M. was his best guess. Which should mean the H should be pulling out of the station soon.</p>
<p>He wiped some of the sweat from his face.</p>
<p>He was going to melt.</p>
<p>He should have stolen clothes from the Manor.</p>
<p>Now would be the perfect time for him to land back in San Monté. Sure it was hot there, but there was also shade.</p>
<p>After what felt like forever, the familiar top of the H train started to slowly emerge from the station. He timed his drop and landed smoothly.</p>
<p>The air flowing around him after the H picked up speed cooled him off enough to make him stop agonizing over the sun.</p>
<p>It’d been a while since he’d last done this. It was nostalgic.</p>
<p>The train made it to the end of its tracks in the Tricorner in what felt like no time. Dick slid off the top of his train car and slipped into the station with relative ease. He went along with the flow of the crowd, exiting down the steps onto ground level.</p>
<p>From there, it was a short distance to the Iceberg Lounge.</p>
<p>With a bit more climbing, Dick finally reached his destination. The back of the Iceberg Lounge roof. There was a small section of the roof that wasn’t made out of the smooth, fake ice. It was white concrete but just as cold as the inside of the establishment. Dick sprawled across it and turned so he could look over the bay. They must’ve taken cleaning pollution seriously at some point because Dick didn’t remember the Gotham side ever looking so clean.</p>
<p>He felt content. Worn out in a good way.</p>
<p>Maybe if he fell asleep, he’d wake up back where he belonged. He forced his eyes shut and soon enough, he was falling asleep.</p>
<p>When Dick woke back up, he was disappointed to find himself still on the roof of the Iceberg Lounge.</p>
<p>It was night. The moon has almost full, shining brightly through the thin layer of Gotham smog.</p>
<p>It was then that Dick realized he’d run into a real problem.</p>
<p>He was bored.</p>
<p>Nighttime in Gotham usually meant hunting down dangerous criminals or investigating suspicious activities. But Dick could disappear from this time at any moment. Starting his own investigations would be useless if he popped away before he reached a conclusion and if he vanished in the middle of a fight, the criminal could just go free.</p>
<p>Thinking about it, Dick most definitely shouldn’t have driven earlier.</p>
<p>Anyway, Dick had nothing to do on this side of time and he wasn’t good at sitting still.</p>
<p>The Tricorner Yards were right down the street.</p>
<p>He’d explore. He could do that. A nice walk along the bay. And those docks were <em>historical</em>, it would be like a field trip.  </p>
<p>It was a typical night along the boardwalk. Nothing overtly suspicious. The breeze from the water was calming and not even slightly as disgusting as it was in Dick’s time.</p>
<p>There was a new construction site filled with the steel beam frame of a new building, otherwise, little had changed.</p>
<p>He paused his wandering when he found a line of colorfully painted trailers with WATER PARADE FLOATS written on their sides. A flyer laying on the ground that stated:</p>
<p>
  <em>Gotham City Fourth of July Water Parade </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>8:30-10:00 P.M.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Presented to you by Cosmos Consolidated</em>
</p>
<p>Dick still broke into the trailers. He was honestly surprised to only find fireworks and deflated parade balloons.</p>
<p>He ended up back at the construction site, resting on the beams halfway to the top of the structure. The moon reflected perfectly over the bay from his position.</p>
<p>How come he could get into a fight with henchmen in broad daylight, but couldn’t find any trouble at <em>the docks</em>?</p>
<p>Now, Dick believed in certain superstitions. Bruce had done his best to push <em>logic</em>, but he never broke Dick from being superstitious. That was why Dick knew better than to utter his next words. He should have known being seven years in the future didn’t stop their affect.</p>
<p>“Huh, a quiet night in Gotham.”</p>
<p>He had the audacity to stretch comfortably along the steel.</p>
<p>Of course, Gotham City never backed down from a challenge.</p>
<p>Just as Dick repositioned his upper arm under his head, a speed boat appeared on the coastline of the bay. It was moving rather slowly and it didn’t have its lights on. Somebody was trying to be stealthy.</p>
<p>Dick brought himself up to a sitting position, legs swinging in the open air.</p>
<p>The boat got closer and closer to the docks. He could make out two people onboard. The boat cut the engine completely a distance away and let itself drift into port. One figure hopped onto the dock, took the line, and tied the boat. The other slung on a backpack and proceeded to place two duffle bags next to the feet of their partner before stepping onto the dock themselves. In the moonlight the two figures appeared tall and broad shouldered. Men most likely. Their steps were silent along the wooden planks as they made their way towards him on the boardwalk. They passed underneath the first streetlamp and Dick mentally choked.</p>
<p>Vik and Ernest.</p>
<p>Two of Slade Wilson’s favorite associates for covert operations. Two men Dick was working with in San Monté.</p>
<p>If they were in Gotham together, well fuck, Slade must be running a job in town.</p>
<p>Dick held absolutely still. He started to regret his position. He’d chosen it for the view not to stay hidden.</p>
<p>They’re <em>professionals</em>, they had to notice the teenager sitting in what felt like the most blatant part of the construction site.</p>
<p>They were almost to the portion of the boardwalk that ran right in front of him when gunshots rang out from the east.</p>
<p>Fortunately, they seemed just as startled by the noise as Dick. Unfortunately, they decided the best way to retreat out of sight was by cutting through the grounds of the construction site.</p>
<p>Dick was stuck to the beam. On-edge mercenaries tended to shoot at unexpected movement coming from above them.</p>
<p>The noise from the shoot out was getting closer by the second. Dick didn’t want to get spotted by whoever was a part of that mess either. He counted to ten, prayed Vik and Ernest had made like hell and were already half way across the Tricorner, then dropped down a beam. He didn’t get shot. He dropped down one more and started walking the beams the opposite direction of the bay.</p>
<p>He heard a bullet imbed itself into steel. He laid down on his stomach at a speed rivaling Wally’s then rotated his body so he could view the boardwalk once again.</p>
<p>Barely a second later, four figures entered his line of sight. Three wore vibrant, loose clothing, while the other had a monotone color palate aside from a red helmet.</p>
<p><em>Red Hood</em> Tim’s voice supplied in Dick’s head.</p>
<p>That was Jason.</p>
<p>Three against one and Jason was winning. No, that wasn’t quite right. The three didn’t seem to be bothered by any of the hits Jason landed. He was definitely more skilled than any of them, they were just abnormally resistant.</p>
<p>It was a whirlwind of a fight, much more elegant than Dick’s earlier one. The three seemed to move in sync without any obvious signals to each other and Jason managed to dodge for the most part while also returning blow for blow. The guns were most likely empty at this point because they were mostly being used as blunt force objects.</p>
<p>One moment, Jason was getting the upper hand, the next, a cloud of orange and blue smoke covered the area. When the smoke cleared, only Red Hood was visible. The man rotated and Dick assumed he was looking for where the three retreated. He heard Jason curse.</p>
<p>The next actions took place in inhuman succession. Though Dick was positive he hadn’t made a single noise, he knew, without there being a reason for him to <em>know</em>, that Jason was about to shoot in his direction, and Dick flung himself off the beam, a bullet whistling just over him.</p>
<p>He landed with all his typical grace on the beam below him and Jason’s gun trailed on him.</p>
<p>Had he not been out of bullets?</p>
<p>“Who the fuck are you?” Jason called out; voice modulated.</p>
<p> Dick didn’t know how to respond to that. Somehow saying that he was Dick Grayson from the past sounded like a shit idea. He raised his hands and walked the beam until he was fully visible in the light.</p>
<p>“Fuck, kid, who the fuck did that to you?”</p>
<p>Dick shrugged slightly, hands still raised, and cracked a smile. He knew he looked like shit, but Jason didn’t have room to judge with the number of slashes Dick could see bleeding. “Who the fuck did that to you?” he asked back, maybe with too much cheek.</p>
<p>“Jesus.” Jason holstered his gun. “I’m not going to shoot you. Put your hands down.”</p>
<p>Dick raised a brow despite the ache in his face and lowered his hands. “You almost did.”</p>
<p>“Wasn’t expecting a kid out here.”</p>
<p>There was a moment of silence where Dick felt like he was being studied. He probably was.</p>
<p>“Goodnight,” Jason said and started walking back east.</p>
<p>There were a million reasons Dick should not follow, but Dick was never good at siting still.  </p>
<p>He realized, in the back of his mind, that this was his first time meeting Jason. And he wouldn’t even remember it.</p>
<p>He jumped onto the ground and caught up with the Red Hood in a flash.</p>
<p>The man froze as Dick reached his side. Up close, Jason was tall, wide shouldered; he had a build like Deathstroke’s.</p>
<p>“The fuck?”</p>
<p>“I’m bored.” Dick kept walking. The trail of bullet casings was a dead giveaway.  </p>
<p>“Get lost, kid.”</p>
<p>Dick ignored him and Jason unfroze.</p>
<p>“I’m the Red fucking Hood. I’ll tie you up and leave you for the rats in one of those unused boat houses.”</p>
<p>Rats weren’t Dick’s favorite, but he was good at getting out of knots if it came down to it. “Go for it.”</p>
<p>Red Hood grabbed the back of Dick’s shirt at the neck and Dick moved without thinking about it, twisting, hooking his arm around the one that has a hold of him. He gave a sharp yank and Red Hood was already letting go like he’d touched fire.</p>
<p>This time Hood raised his hands. “You startle easy.”</p>
<p>Dick felt a bit offended at that.</p>
<p>Hood pointed to the ground Dick was about to step on. A piece of colorful cloth laid on the asphalt.</p>
<p>“That’s why you should scram, kid. You’re gonna mess up my evidence.”</p>
<p>Dick exhaled. “You planted that. That wasn’t there earlier.”</p>
<p>“It’s literally in front of you, when could I have planted it?”</p>
<p>Dick ignored the question and spotted a warehouse with an open door and a few bullet holes. “You initiated the confrontation in there?”</p>
<p>“Wow, a genius. What gave it away?” Jason started walking ahead of him. “Leave.”</p>
<p>Dick followed anyways.</p>
<p>They entered the warehouse. About four dozen crates were set out on the far side of the floor.</p>
<p>“What am I looking for?” Dick asked with a quick glance around the room for boobytraps.</p>
<p>“The door out.”</p>
<p>“I thought you were going to tie me up for the rats.”</p>
<p>Dick approached the first crate. He ran his fingers along the edges and he felt Jason staring at him through the helmet.</p>
<p>“What’s your name?”</p>
<p>And because Dick could tell Jason already had it figured out, and Alfred raised him to be polite, he replied, “Dick.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Jason: *almost shoots a kid, panics*<br/>Jason: this kid looks a bit like my brother... he sounds a bit like my brother... but my brother is an adult so this kid being my brother would be impossible <br/>Dick: *moves a certain way*<br/>Jason: Fuck. This kid is my actual brother</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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